own is when everything "comes up." That's if you have anything
left to come up.

[Illustration: "I don't know what to call you," sez he, "Call me an
ambulance," says I.--]

The game we played comin over would have been a good trainin fer a
prize fiter. We tumbled round so we looked like we was shadow boxin.
"Snappy brand of weather" pipes one of these sailor guys. He was rite,
I never remember givin a better imitation of a whip snapper; and the
wind, Julie dere, the wind which spends its time round the Flatiron
and Woolworth Buildings, are as the poets say "gentle zephers" to that
which sweeps across the English channel when a man sized storm is on;
it listens like a cross between the moan of a dyin giastacutus and a
subway express behind time under the East River.

I never before was so glad to set my foot on dri land. I was so
tickled I could have kisst the ground if it had been Hoboken, N.
J.U.S.A. Next time they send me to Vive la France, I hope they send me
by parcels post or airoplane. I bumped into the Captain; he said, "I
dunno what to call you," I told him he could call me an ambulance or
a taxi, anything to get to land with. We have been on water so much
since we swore our way into the army, that I don't know whether I'm in
the army or navy. Tomorrow me and Skinny is gonna get a pass to look
over Paree. We're lookin forward to a big time with what Skinny calls
"Ze gay chansonettes." I don't know whether he means a disease or a
dance, as I don't make this parley-voo much, but I'm gonna find out
before we come back.

With love I am yours until my wrist watch goes 24 hrs without takin a
recess,

BARNEY.

P.S. How about my other shirt, did you get it from the Chinks?

Nowhere in France the morning after a night in Paris.

Dere Julie:

So this is Paris. Believe you me, Julie, I don't see why they wanna
keep Wilhelm the Twicer away from this burg; give him 48 hrs. in
Paree like the once around the clock we had here and it would be
fare-thee-well Wilhelm. There would be nothin left to say but "don't
he look natural."

Speaking of funerals, Julie reminds me that was the first thing we met
up with when we arrove in Paree! Flowers, paul-bearers, an everything.
Skinny lowed as how it must be some high and mitey who had joined his
4 fathers, and asked a Frenchy standing on the curb of the "bull-yard"
who the big guy wuz? Shrugging his shoulders, he pipes up with sumpin
which sounded like "Monsewer Jenn